Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Sportsman's Distress

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The Sportsman's Distress.
I've lost my friend, my dog, and wife, Saved only horse and purse;Yet whn I think on human life, Thank heaven it is no worse.
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My friend was sickly, poor, and old, Was peevish, blind, and crippled;My wife was ugly and a scold,— I rather think she tippled.
My dog was faithful, fond, and true, In sporting gave me pleasure;I shouldn't care for t'other two, If I had saved this treasure.

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